Neo-Odyssey

Chapter Two

"North Pacific Ocean Flight 119, boarding in thirty minutes..."

Taylor felt sick. Their skin was crawling, the world was spinning, their skin was clammy and their world set to a feverish high. The youth wasn't sure just what in blazes was up with them. They weren't sick, they weren't drugged up, they certainly weren't drunk, and the odds of being poisoned were astronomically low.

Maybe I ran into something I'm allergic to? Taylor thought, running the possibilities in their mind down till they ran aground of the only remaining possibilities. It was a soothing act at the least, enough to distract from the way their stomach felt like it was about to force its way up and out through their throat.

That helped until they felt a shock run through their whole body, which summarily fell limp. It was as if the world itself blipped out of existence for a single solitary moment before being resuscitated a moment later. Taylor could hear noises, terrible noises, the sounds you only heard when disaster was afoot. Screaming people, sketching metal, the haywire crackle of sparking electricity. All in all, it felt like quite the ill omen considering they were about to board a plane and all that jazz.

"Are you alright?" 

A refined, kindly voice asked them from above. It was then that Taylor noticed the firm, if feeble, arm wrapped around their torso.

"You nearly suffered a good wallop to the head youngster. "

"Th...th...th..." Taylor mouthed the words, but nothing came out but air blown between the teen's teeth.

God this is embarrassing. What the fuck is wrong with me?

Taylor cursed the situation all the harder, the indignity of being as helpless as a newborn babe a harsh sting to their very psyche.

"Hmmm, seems you aren't well? Hold on, let me get some help for you..."

A few moments later, another pair of arms was around Taylor, and they felt their limp body slumped upon the soft cushioning of the waiting seats by the plane terminal.

"What happened to the girl? Any clue why she's like this?" A new voice rang out, deep and composed to an almost monotone degree.

"I couldn't hazard a guess why the boy's fallen so sickly. Thank you kindly for the aid in any case, tis appreciated," the older voice replied, the one who first caught Taylor.

 Looking at him, he seemed a dapper fellow, bedecked in a fine suit, walking cane in one hand and briefcase in the other, while a striking top hat rested atop his silver haired head. He had a finely groomed moustache, a firm brow, a stiff upper lip and well weathered creases upon the age face that looked down at Taylor with concern.

"Can you speak? Or gesture? If you know what's wrong with you, blink. If not, wink."

Taylor winked, and he turned to the other person, a well-dressed bespectacled man, who ran his hand down his bald scalp in exasperation.

"Kid looks like they're in bad shape," he said, pulling out a phone. "I'll give medical services a call. See if we can't get you to the hospital."

Taylor managed to vigorously shake their head, the older man pushing aside the younger one's phone.

"Seems they're coming to" he sighed, letting out a relieved breath. "I do believe they'll be just fine."

"You seem pretty sure about that," the spectacled man asked, are you a doctor?"

"No, but I do have first aid training. And I've seen my fair share of medical emergencies in my day." He answered, sitting Taylor up as feeling returned to their muscles.